


By The Brook

by Schweet



Category: Original Work
Genre: Fantasy, M/M, Original Fiction
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-12
Updated: 2020-06-12
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:01:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24677350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Schweet/pseuds/Schweet
Summary: I wrote this like six years ago and I loved it to death when I first wrote it so I thought I'd post it here for funsies





	1. The Introduction

The sunlight filtered through the trees as two children played beside a babbling brook. The sun beams settled gently upon moss- covered rocks half covered by leaves. Covered in damp sand, the two boys flung rough stones into the crystal water, attempting to out do the other by creating the largest splash. Minnows fled down river in an attempt to find a more serene part of the river. Their gray scales flashed in the bright afternoon sunshine as they swam over the smooth pebbles of the shallow stream.

One boy, with homemade rough- spun wool clothing engulfing his tiny frame, pitted against the other, with expensive silk hanging from his plump frame. Thick, dark brown hair hung from the smaller boy’s head, hiding his eyes. He had to push it back out of his face after each throw in order to see the resulting splash.

Water flew in every direction as the pair flung rock after rock into the shallow water, their ingenious game slowly descending into a maddened craze of flying rocks, eruptions of water, and uncontrollable laughter.

Finally exhausted, the two boys collapsed in a giggling heap, toes dangling in the water. Throwing off his yellow silk coat, the blonde haired boy leaped on top of his friend, pinning him to the ground. Forgetting their responsibilities, the two rolled through the sand before splashing into the stream.

“Okay! Okay! You win, Cade, you win!”

“What have I told you before?” Cade smiled down at his friend, then let him push him off, flopping into the river beside him.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Aren’t you supposed to let me win or something? I mean, I am the future king.”

“That’s not  _ technically  _ in my job description. Besides, you’re not king yet! You’re just ‘wee wittle Cador’.” Cade mimicked Cador’s nurse’s voice. “And remember, ‘wee wittle Cador must not get ‘is clothes dirty’!” His laugh was cut off by a mouthful of sand. Cador did not look amused.

“Shut up.” But a small smile grew as he added quietly, “Cadie.”

“She called me that once!”

The friends dissolved into a giggling, wet, sandy mess once again, oblivious to the world around them.

Worn into the hillside over years of feet trampling the grass, the path wound its way down the hill, out of the castle’s shadow, and into the sunlight. Wet footprints followed the path back up to the castle and its surrounding city. Cade led the way up the old path, his wet feet slowly turning the same reddish brown as dirt below. Cador closely followed behind, his sand covered, bundled up, silk shirt tossed carelessly over his arm. Cador glanced over his shoulder, eyes lingering on the sandy patch by the stream now small with the distance. There was a flicker of movement on the other side of the stream, drawing Cador’s eyes, fear flashing through him.

All the stories he’d ever heard, the myths, the quickly hushed rumours, they all flashed through his brain. His eyes strained as he tried to bring the distance into sharper view. He scanned the bushes, the bank, the treeline. He leaned forward as if that might help him, searching the shadows for any hint of life.

“Cador?” The voice was gentle and friendly, but to Cador it sounded like the roar of a dragon. His head whipped around searching for the source of the voice. His eyes, blown wide, fell upon Cade. He stood in front of him, leaning slightly into the incline of hill. “Are you coming?”

Cador opened his mouth, but no sound came out. Realizing that something had frightened Cador, he squared his shoulders and started towards him. His eyes slid over Cador’s shoulder, half- expecting to see an approaching army or a band of robbers. He couldn’t find what had spooked his friend, so he asked, “What did you see?”, the concern evident in his voice. An army might not be able to hide, but bandits? They could fade into the woods at a moment’s notice.

Cador turned back around, following Cade as he walked past him before stopping a few feet in front of him. “I- I don’t know, it was just there and then gone. It could have- could it have been, you know…?”, his voice trailed off as he looked back towards the stream. The pair stood there in silence, Cade intensely scanning the treeline, Cador staring directly where he had seen the movement. Well, where he thought he had seen it anyways.

Visions of monstrous creatures erupting from the forest and charging up the hill towards them swam through his mind, fueled by the adrenaline surging through his veins, shaking through his hands, and pumping through his ears. Wings beating against gentle air. Spikes bristling, lining their bodies, ripping the timid bushes to shreds Eyes burning as they sought out their next victim. Just as he was starting to think he couldn’t take it anymore, a bush a few feet to the right of the bush he was staring down started shaking.

And a bunny hopped out.

Cador stared at the rabbit. It just sat there, it’s mottled gray coat nearly blending into the surrounding shadows.

Silence reigned. When he could bear it no longer, he turned his head to look at Cade.

Cade and Cador paused upon reaching the top of the hill, savouring their last few moments of freedom as they gazed down the path to where it met up with a large, well- maintained cobblestone path.

The path shot like an arrow through the heart of the city, past the baker’s shop, past the blacksmith’s shop, past the fruit carts and the fish carts, past the butcher’s shop, stopping only when it ran full speed into the city square. Hundreds of people bustled about, some with bags thrown over their arms, some leading horses or cows, some pulling small wooden carts behind them bartering their wares.

An old man in a leather coat pulled a cart full of small, carved, wooden amulets. A young woman stood outside the entrance to a shack covered in brightly patterned cloths. Children darted through the crowds, weaving their way between vendors, shoppers, and animals, having perfected the fine art of movement through a crowd.

The buildings of the city climbed the hill to the castle before meeting the castle halfway. Their massive blocks of roughly hewn stone, grey tiled roofs, and heavy wooden or iron doors lined cobblestone streets in a grid system, always bending at 90 degree angles.

Keeping their heads down, they started towards the pride and joy of the kingdom. Joining the steady flow of merchants, the boys passed unnoticed through the city. They passed the woman showing off the bright patterns imported from another land. They passed the old man selling a carved wooden rune to a young couple. They passed the baker’s shop, the blacksmith’s shop, the fruit carts and the fish carts, the butcher’s shop.

Sneaking back through the wrought iron gates of the castle thrown wide like open arms, the boys slipped through a side door right before the entrance to the castle’s internal grounds.

The pair didn’t make it far into the castle before they were stopped.

“Ach, look atcha ya!” Came the dreaded voice from behind.

The two friends froze, not daring to look over their shoulders.

“Wha’ did ya do to yer clothes?”

Cador looked at the small boy next to him and whispered, “Run!”

Thick as thieves, the pair rushed off, leaving Cador’s aging nurse maid behind. Their carefree laughter echoing in her ears as she struggled to keep up.


	2. The Consequences

The door slammed and he knew he was in trouble.

“What were you thinking Cador? No knights! No guard! Not a single person to keep you saf-”

“But Dad, Cade was there!”

King Allard’s fist slammed down on the table beside Cador, his ring glinting in the firelight. “Cade is not a guard, he is a child, like you! You are Prince Cador, you go nowhere without at least three knights and at least one guard. Especially when leaving the city. I mean, Cador, really? You were closer to the woods then to the city.” His voice rose in frustration.

“But Cade  _ is _ my guard, so I don’t need to be baby sat like a three- year old- there’s nothing even in there anyways. They’re all just stories.” He said ruefully.

“Not yet he’s not! And if he doesn’t wise up and start acting like one, he never will be.” King Allard tried not to shout.

“Dad n-”

“Just think Cador, please. What if something had happened to you?” A soft voice spoke up from behind where he sat. His mother bent down to his level, eyes pleading with him to understand what his father was saying. “You are the prince, next in line for the throne. Without you the kingdom could fall to ruin. This kingdom needs you Cador. It needs you like a traveller in the desert needs water.”

Silence, and then a proud, “Really?” In an attempt to reach her son, to get him to understand the gravity of his actions and the importance of his own safety, her gentle words preened his young ego, unaware of the monster they would create.

Cade stood in the far corner of the cramped room. His whole body screamed, eyes darting wildly between his captors, trapped by the strong grip of a giant’s hand wrapped around his shoulder. The giant’s fingernails dug through the thin cotton shirt Cade wore, leaving dark purple crescent moons in the soft flesh of his arm. The giant’s cronies stood with their backs to Cade, their dress uniforms glinting slightly in the candlelight as the woven metallic threads at each cuff and collar danced in the candlelight.

From the other side of the door came the sound of approaching footsteps. Cade attempted to push his way behind the giant, initiating a small scuffle. Bu as the door swung open and a tall figure entered, Cade froze, which of course allowed the giant to unceremoniously drag Cade back from out behind him.

The tall figure observed the crowded scene before him. From the boy cowering in the corner to the extremely tall man holding the frightened boy in place to the men surrounding the unhappy pair. He specifically noticed that the men on either side of the room were resting their hands upon the hilts of their swords. Ceremonious or not, they could still do a good amount of damage.

“Thank you Talek, you can let him go now. I don't think he will run off again.”

The giant finally let go, letting Cade shake the feeling back into his numb arm.

“Thank you for bringing him here, but I believe this is a matter for my son and I to discuss alone.”

Motioning to the others in the room, Talek slipped out of the room, the others following close behind. Cade’s father closed the oak door behind the large group. He paused with a palm resting flat on the door as he let out a tired sigh. Turning around to face his son, he unfastened his cloak and draped over the back of a nearby chair.

“Come on,” he knelt down on one knee and looked up at the frightened boy. His tired eyes took in the fists pressed against his sides, quick breathing, clumsily wiped away tear tracks, and a pink mark left on one cheek. He waved the boy over to him.

“I didn't mean to get him into trouble. I shouldn't have agreed, I know, but we wanted to have fun, and he can't have that in the castle!” Cade pleaded from his corner.

Cade’s father just knelt there, staring at him. Cade bet that if one of his swords cut him open right then and there, red blood wouldn't spill out, just disappointment.

“I swear it, Father, I'll be better. It's my fault, I know, I'm sorry, I shouldn’t have agreed. Just please, please don't take this away from me. It's all I've ever wanted, please.” His voice faded into a weak cry as the tears began to fall once again. It was all he’d ever known, he couldn’t lose it. He had nothing else.

Pushing himself up off of the ground, Cade’s father walked over to him. His voice was soft and quiet, as if he were a shepherd trying not to scare a newborn sheep. “No, this wasn't your fault Cade. Although you should have known better than to agree to leaving the city without his guard or at the very least, a single knight. Because one day, you  _ will _ be Prince Cador’s Guard. That means duty first, then, maybe, fun. But always, your duty to protect him and serve him  _ must always _ come first.”

Cade’s eyes dropped, no longer able to look his father in the eyes.

“But yes, you are still an apprentice guard. Only King Allard can take that away from you.” Niam smiled gently down at his son.

“I'm scared he might,” Cade whispered, still staring down at the floorboards.

“Is he the one who gave you that?” A sad finger pointed to the pink mark on his son’s face, the outline of a ring clearly etched into the soft flesh of his cheek. Refusing to answer, or even look up at him, Niam bent down to get a better look. He raised a hand to turn his son’s cheek towards him, but Cade flinched away. Surprised, Niam drew back, his heart breaking for his small son.  _ So much responsibility on those tiny shoulders, the boy  _ needed _ to have some fun. They both did. No wonder they ran off today. _ His thoughts swirled around his gray covered head. He wished that his son could just be a child for once in his life, without constantly needing to think about Cador every waking moment, without having to constantly put Cador first, without the responsibility of a fully trained, adult Guard. He vowed to talk to Allard about the treatment of his son, he may be the sole candidate for the prince’s Guard, but he was still  _ his _ son.

“Cade, you are  _ my son _ , and I will ensure you have a future as Prince Cador’s Guard, as long as you still want it. I can get King Allard to listen. This is your birthright Cade, just as much as being the prince is Cador’s-”

“But birthrights mean nothing to angry people. If they did, rulers wouldn’t bother keeping their kingdom happy. They would just do whatever they want.”

“That’s true,” he nodded solemnly. “Birthrights can be taken away, but only from those who are unwilling to fight for them. Do you know why they don’t fight?”

Cade glanced up at his father, unsure of what to think.

“They don’t deserve it.” Niam gripped his son’s bony shoulders in an attempt to emphasize his words.

Cade’s eyes grew wide and he knew it had worked.

“Just because you are born with an advantage in your lap, doesn’t mean you are any better than the man standing next to you in the marketplace. And it certainly does _ not _ give you the right to hurt another soul just because you can. If you were born with a stick in one hand, would you use it to trip another man for the sole purpose of making that man look foolish, especially if he is compared to you? Remember today Cade. Your duty to protect Cador must come before all else, do you understand? Because the vow you will take may one day require you to protect Cador from himself.”


	3. The Lower Town

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's unfinished, but I wanted to leave it as I had discovered it

The clinking of glasses and rowdy laughter nearly drowned out the quiet conversation in back corner of the inn. Two young men sat with their heads bent together in an attempt to keep the rest of the inn from overhearing their hushed words. The man with the dark brown hair stood up and slid out from behind the table, revealing his innate agility as he practically glided through crowded dining room, dodging bar maids and drunken patrons. One man in particular, while emphasizing a point to his friend, flung out his arms with a strength that belied his old age, nearly whacking the young man in the gut. He would have too if it had not been for a quick side step on his part, causing the wildly brandished mug to swing wide.

Finally reaching the counter at the front of the room, he rested his rough hands against the thick oaken counter. “Two mugs of mead and two… What are you serving tonight?”

“My Brian caught a turkey today, so tonight we’re having a special.” The old man could barely contain the pride he held for his son. “Turkey stew with a side of rye bread.”

“And two turkey stews then,” he smiled at the man behind the counter, indulging him in his moment of pride.

The cook turned around and walked over to a large iron pot sitting in the coals of a rather large firepit. Removing the heavy lid from its counterpart, he ladled the thick stew into a pair of rough- hewn wooden bowls and set the bowls on a wooden platter that already held two pieces of heavily buttered bread. Setting the full platter down on the barrier between the two rooms, the cook held out a pink hand to the young man in front of him.

Placing two small silver coins in the palm of the cook’s hand, he thanked him, “Thank you, sir. Please tell Brian congratulations from me.” The cook’s eyes practically glowed as he pocketed the price of the two meals.

The young man picked up the tray, accidently revealing a strange shaped scar on his right wrist as the loose sleeve of his cotton shirt brushed against the counter. The strange sight drew the cook’s eyes to it, but upon recognizing it, his eyes flew to the second young man sitting in the back corner of his inn.

Not having noticed this movement, the man with the scar headed back to his friend, balancing the tray of food as he wove his way back through the maze of tipsy townspeople.

“Prove to me this wasn’t a bad idea.”

“Best behaviour, I swear.”

He placed a bowl of stew in front of the seated blonde, “I’m serious, Cador. I may have passed, but I’m officially inducted yet.”

Digging into the steaming turkey stew, Cador responded light- heartedly, “Yeah, but that’s tomorrow morning. Soooo, its close enough.”

“Cador, I still don’t have his permission, you know what that means right? I- I still can’t be your Guard until he approves-”

Cador grabbed his friend’s arm and pulled him down. “Just sit down and stop worrying, Cade. I’ll make sure he says ‘yes’.”

“You really think so?”

“Don’t you trust me?”

Cade looked across the table at Cador Ædelric, unsure of how to respond. Sure he trusted Cade, they were friends after all, he just wasn’t sure whether he should, or even could, trust him with this. For being next in line for the throne, he had remarkably little experience with responsibility.

“Aren’t I supposed to trust you? And isn’t trust a two- way street, Cade? Aren’t you always saying that?”

“Maybe.”

Cador flung his hands up in the air, a smile plastered on his face. He obviously thought that settled the matter. Mentally rolling his eyes at the Prince he decided to just move on. Cador already had, so there was no point in trying to pursue it anyways.

Just then, a nervous barmaid set a pair of overflowing mugs down on the rickety table. Her eyes flickered back and forth from Cador to the floor and back again as she muttered a quiet, “Here’s your mead, sir.” As she stepped back, the back of her hand knocked Cade’s mug, sending it wobbling to the edge of the table, mead splashing across the table as it went.

Cade’s hand jerked up and grabbed the cup before it could topple over completely. But not before a wave of mead splashed across the front of his shirt. Completely oblivious, Cador smiled at the girl as she shuffled away, hands still trembling.

“Wonder what’s got her so nervous?” Cador watched the girl slip behind the bar and rest her hands upon its rough surface, obviously attempting to calm herself down.

“Hm.” Cade responded with an annoyed grunt, glancing down into his half-empty mug. He placed a hand on his wet shirt,  _ Where’d the rest of it go? _

“Cade, really?”

Cade’s head snapped up in response to his friend’s exasperated tone. He followed Cador’s line of sight and saw where the rest of his mead lay.

“It wasn’t me,” he sighed. Grabbing a corner of his discarded cloak, he mopped up the puddle before it could spread any further.

Resuming his one man feast, Cador dug back into his stew with a small smile. Disgruntled, Cade hung his now sopping wet cloak over the back of the empty chair beside him. Turning back to his dinner, he found to his further dismay that his bread had not been fortunate enough to escape the flood of mead.  _ Well, at least my stew’s still hot. _ With that small, comforting thought, he mirrored Cador and dug into lukewarm stew. Lukewarm, not hot. Cade closed his eyes, struggling to keep his thoughts to himself.

“Yeah, mine cooled off fast too. At least it still tastes good.” Cador’s sympathetic words caught Cade off guard. The only time Cade paid close enough attention to what another human being might be thinking was during his weapons training class. And he paid attention only to discover his opponents weaknesses.

Spooning a large chunk of turkey into mouth, he said, “The turkey really was caught today, you can practically taste the feathers on it.” Swallowing another soonful of broth he continued his review of the stew, “I mean, it’s nothing like the stew from up at the castle of course. But for a rickety little inn in the lower town, it’s pretty good.”

Succesfully snapped out of his funk, Cade’s mouth grew into a small smile. However, he quickly concealed it as he ate another bite of the stew.  _ Yeah, you can almost taste the feathers. _

The pair continued eating in a comfortable silnce, the only sound from their table was an occaisonal slurp of their stew or the clunk of a mug being set back down on the rough surface of the table. Soaking up the last of his stew with his piece of rye bread, Cador glanced over at Cade, who was scraping the last little bits of his stew from the sides of his bbowl with his spoon, not his bread. Glancing down at his own bread and bowl, he realized he didn’t have enough to finish his stew. He looked back up at Cade’s untouched bread. Then back his bowl. Then back at Cade’s bread.

“Are you going to eat your bread?”

“Hm?” Cade glanced up, clearly having been lost deep in thought.

“Your bread? Can I eat it?”

“It’s soaked through with mead-”

“Oohhh, even better,” he flashed a joking smile at him. “No, but seriously. Can I eat it?”

Looking slightly bewildered, Cade plopped the soggy mess onto Cador’s plate, “Yeah, sure. I’m sure not gonna eat it.”

Clapping his hands like a child on his birthday, Cador smiled down at his plate.

Leaning back in his chair, the soon-to-be-gaurd observed his friend. “You know, for a prince, you sure don’t eat like one.”

Cador smirked through a mouthful of soppy bread, “There are no visiting dignitaries, no cousins from neighbouring countries, no power- hungry warlords my father needs to align the kingdom with, so no, fight me Cade, I’m eating with my hands tonight.” Swiping the back of his hand across his mouth, Cador looked across the loud dining room, searching for something. He looked like he was just about to give up when a man came up to their table and poked him in the arm, hard.

“Oi! Ain’t you from up the hill?” His sun- wrinkled face glared down at Cador. The piercing shrill of his voice carried throughout the room, silencing it as effectively as a cannon shot.

Cade tried to stand up to shoo the man off, but Cador put up a hand. Cador barely glanced at the man before replying with a noncommittal grunt.

“Don’t you start thinkin’ you can just wave me off like I’m nothin’, big man,” his voice dripped with contempt. “I see you an’ your type comin’ in here all the time, with your fancy clothes an’ big smiles, struttin’ in like ypu own the place. Well, I got news for you,  _ sir _ . We don’t want you or your kind down here. This here is our inn. You got your fancy inns and feasts up the hill, and we got what we have, so leave what we have for those of us who can work for it.” Scraggly black hair swung across his dark eyes as he waved his rough hands about. He still wore his working clothes, a pair heavy, durable pants with old shirt and a pair of old, brown boots. His tanned face and hands and boots splattered in mud told Cade he was a farmer. And an angry farmer down here in the Lower Town meant that this man most likely worked on one the orchards on the edge of the Lower Town. A group of farmers from the nearby apple orchards wouldn’t let a knight into their orchard two weeks ago. The men claimed they were being forced to work in unsafe conditions, but when no one was sent to check out their orchard, they banded together and agreed to keep the next shipment of apples from leaving their orchard.

Cador leaned back in his chair and looked the man up and down. Slowly, deliberately, he took in every detail of the man’s clothing and lastly his face. “I’m a paying patron of this establishment. Surely that’s a good thing?”

“Are you implying that we aren’t paying?” Taking a step towards Cador’s seat, the man puffed out his chest and thrust his clenched fists down against his sides in an obvious attempt to keep from smacking the haughty man seated in front of him.

“No, no. Of course not. I’m sure you are paying,” the farmer seemed to relax a bit from the realization that Cador’s words were not in fact a degradation to his pride. Cador paused and took a swig from his mug before carefully placing it back down on the rough- hewn wooden table. Cador glanced across at Cade, winked, and turned back to the still angry farmer. “I’m simply saying that I can pay more than you-”

A fist slammed into Cador’s jaw, knocking his head sideways. Suddenly, the room erupted into noise once again, except now, instead of the jovial noise of happy diners it was the noise of an unhappy riot. As the farmer threw himself on top of Cador, raining down blow after blow upon this symbol of everything unattainable, half the room swarmed forwards, wanting to get a piece of the action.

Cde threw back his chair and dove into maddened craze around the Prince. He had one job,  _ one job _ , to hell with it if he was going to let his ward be pummeled to death by a group of drunken workers from the Lower Town the night before his Induction Ceremony. Fiannly reaching Cador, he pulled the original farmer up off the ground where Cador lay. Throwing him behind himself, into the waiting throng of drunk rioters, Cade bent down and picked up Cador dragging him back through the crowd, fending off the odd blow here and there as he struggled to drag Cador through the dining room of the crowded inn and back to the door.

Upon reaching said door, Cade threw it open and tossed Cador out into the dark street.

Gets mad, yells at him, finds out he did it for him

Finishes meal

Cador takes swig of mead, starts fight w/guy, before says the thing that starts the physical fight (crosses line from verbal/ physical fight) takes big swig of mead, sets mug down on table, winks across table at Cade, then turns and says what ever the thing is

Orders two mugs of beer or whatever and two meals.

In lower town (outskirts near orchard) Cador gets himself into trouble when Cade is gone for just a few moments (shouting/ fighting/ arguement/ whatever type thing)

Eve of induction ceremony as official Guard for Prince (need better official title) Cador’s idea to go out and celebrate

  
  


“Prove to me this was a good idea.”

“Best behaviour, I swear.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone's interested in me finishing this, let me know! I'd be excited to keep writing this story, or even re-write it since I've learned so much since I first wrote this!


End file.
